


Stranger than (Science) Fiction

by tessykins



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Aliens, Catboys & Catgirls, Community: ae_match, M/M, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-26
Updated: 2011-08-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3451025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessykins/pseuds/tessykins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur is an alien catboy and Eames is a shape-shifting tentacle monster from outer space. Written for <a href="http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/19177.html?thread=44312553#t44312553">this prompt</a> on <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/">inception_kink</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger than (Science) Fiction

**Author's Note:**

> ~~Steals from~~ Riffs heavily on [](http://cthonical.livejournal.com/profile)[cthonical](http://cthonical.livejournal.com/)'s Alien Eames series. The first draft of this was beta’ed by the lovely [](http://sirona-gs.livejournal.com/profile)[sirona_gs](http://sirona-gs.livejournal.com/) but I wrote some more so all the new errors are mine.

“ _You_! ”

“Me,” said Arthur coolly, crossing his arms over his chest. His tail swished languidly behind him.

The mark was unconscious on the bed, a PASIV line still connected to his wrist. Apparently, the man’s security had figured out that it was easier to stop an extraction with an EMP than busting down the door. Too late, though; they ’d already gotten the information they’d needed. But there was one unexpected side effect. There was something different about Arthur, now. Arthur had never had a tail or cat ears before.

“What the fuck?” Eames breathed.

Arthur’s ears twitched and he looked embarrassed. “I’m an alien.”

 _Ah, shit._ “We should really have a discussion about that ,” Eames said tersely. “But for now I think we should run.”

\---

It was completely silent in the hotel they had retreated to. Eames could hear Arthur’s breathing, the sounds of their clothes rustling.

He couldn't stop staring at Arthur. He’d always been fascinated with him, even when Arthur had been nothing more than a stunningly gorgeous and competent point man. This, well, this was something completely new. Arthur was perched on the edge of the hotel desk; his ears were pricked forward, alert. He was an _alien_ ; Eames couldn’t believe he’d missed it. Arthur was just like him had always been just like him and he’d never noticed, despite all the time he spent watching.

“So…” Arthur started, awkward.

“What the hell happened back there?”

Arthur rubbed absentmindedly at his wrist. “I’m implanted with—I guess the best description would be a hologram projector. The EMP knocked it out.”

“ _This_ is what you really look like?”

“Yeah,” Arthur said. He looked away.

Eames surveyed Arthur’s true form. One set of ears—completely feline—and a tail; fur gunmetal grey with black tabby markings. His brown eyes had slit pupils; his teeth were sharp. Eames was momentarily distracted by the sensuous curve of his spine. “You’re gorgeous,” he said.

Arthur blushed, looking a little startled. It was an enormously appealing look on him.

Eames rubbed the back of his neck, ruffling the short hairs there. This was probably the point where he should tell Arthur his own secret. He huffed out a sigh. “This isn’t what I look like either.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?” His ears lowered slightly to the sides of his head; his tail flicked agitatedly.

“Can I just show you?” Eames paused and considered that this might cause Arthur to whip out a gun and shoot him. “Don’t freak out.”

Eames dropped the forgery he wore every day, letting his human disguise crumble. He let everything show: the coarse and mottled skin, the yellow eyes, the sharp teeth, the pointed ears. Well, almost everything. He kept the tentacle waving to a minimum.

“Holy shit,” breathed Arthur. His ears were flat against his head.

“So I’m an alien, too.”

Arthur leaned back on his desk, hand resting on hotel stationery. Then he abruptly started laughing, showing off teeth that were white and sharp. He still had dimples; there was an alien species with dimples, Eames thought with wonder.

“Christ, Arthur, are you laughing at what I look like?” His tentacles shrank in on themselves, knotting together.

“No,” Arthur said, gasping in breaths between laughs. “It’s just—I’m an alien catboy and you’re a shape-shifting tentacle monster from outer space. Fuck, _fuck_.”

“While I object somewhat to the ‘tentacle monster’ appellation, I agree. We do make quite the pair.”

Arthur shook his head, ears coming forward. “How long have you been here? On Earth?”

Eames sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. He tended to lose count of the long, lonely years. “Ten, I think. Since my people found out humans had developed dreamshare. You?”

“Same. Maybe fifteen. Something in between,” Arthur said. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking vaguely embarrassed. “The thing is, the PASIV’s alien tech. One of my people got sloppy and the army caught on to it. I’m supposed to be monitoring. But it’s been a while since I heard anything from the homeworld.”

“So you’re here alone?”

Arthur’s face crumpled; his shoulders drooped. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”

\---

 

Eames didn’t see Arthur for a month after their mutual revelation. Arthur took a job somewhere in the depths of Eastern Europe; Eames went back to Mombasa. He needed to be some place where he can be comfortable; his home ground. He knew Arthur was running away, avoiding the new kinship between them. Eames wasn’t inclined to push him on that; he needed a little time of his own to process things.

Eames had been basically alone for ten years. Sure, he had friends and teammates but they were, well, _human_. Eames was the only one of his kind on this planet and he’d assumed—until a month ago—that he was the only alien too. But it wasn’t beyond the realm of imagination that there might be others. If his species could make its way to Earth, so could others. The fact that that other was Arthur—lovely, dangerous Arthur—seemed almost too much of a coincidence to believe. If he hadn’t seen it for himself, Eames would never have believed it. But it was true: Arthur was like him. Eames had never been so happy to be surprised.

Eames sat out on the balcony of his apartment, breating in the heady, spicy food-rot-human stink of the city. A beer slowly sweated in his hand. His phone jangled on the little table next to his chair. Eames frowned at the unknown number on the display but picked up.

“Do you ever find humans have a frustrating inability to understand anything beyond three or four dimensions?” Arthur asked. There was an edge of irritation in his voice.

Eames was a little puzzled by the question, more so by Arthur’s apparent willingness to ask it. “Oh, are we talking about this now?”

“Don’t be snide,” Arthur snapped. “I needed time to think things through.”

Eames took a swig of his beer. “And now that you’ve thought about it…” He trailed off, letting Arthur take up the thread of the conversation.

“I don’t—” Arthur stopped and was silent for a moment. “It’s strange. Now that I know that there’s someone out there, now that I know we’re alike, I want to put everything out there, even though I know I shouldn’t. I want to talk to you about the things I can’t talk about with anyone else. And I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“I know,” Eames said. “Me too.”

“I don’t even know if I can trust you. I don’t even like you.”

Eames laughed. “Oh, darling. You know you love me.” He could hear Arthur snort. “You’re probably right not to trust me. I’m not a trustworthy man.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Arthur said.

“I want you to trust me, though,” Eames said. Arthur made a low noise through the phone. Eames smiled ruefully. “I’d like to try, if you think you can, to get to know each other.”

There was a long silence and then Arthur said, “Okay,” and hung up.

——

Eames took his job with Arthur, and then his next, and the one after that. They werecareful with each other, figuring out the boundaries of their new relationship. It was like exploring some strange, new and dangerous land. It was exhilarating, each day filled with the thrill of discovery.

Eames shared bits of himself: the closeness of his family pod, his life spent under turquoise seas and coral skies. He made Arthur laugh by regaling him with the wonders of being amphibious. Arthur shared only cautiously. He opened up slowly, unfurling like a blossom in spring—Arthur would probably maim him horribly if he ever heard that comparison. But as the days went by, they became more open, more honest with each other.

Arthur told him that his species potentiated alcohol faster than humans, so Eames took him home and got him smashed on only two glasses of scotch.

Eames told Arthur the story of his first love: a female dappled in purple and blue who broke his heart.

Arthur showed up in a dream sporting ears and a tail; Eames sighed and gratefully dropped his own disguise.

Eames watched Arthur more, which was saying something considering how much Eames had watched him when Arthur was just the sleek, uptight point man that he was more than a little in love with. He considered Arthur, wondering what his true form might look like from this angle, that one. Eames thought Arthur’s perfect posture might be more about the discomfort of hiding his extraneous body parts than an upright bearing.

Arthur watched him, too. That was something new. Eames wasn’t used to Arthur looking at him with such intensity. There was a new heat in Arthur’s eyes; Eames didn’t know what he wanted to do with that. He wanted Arthur, had wanted him for so long that it was an old familiar ache, but he wanted Arthur to come to him. Arthur’s desire made him feel bizarrely vulnerable, flayed open.

They were three months into their odd new relationship when they fell into a conversation about the bone-deep loneliness of their situation.

“But it gets worse than that,” Arthur grumbled.

They werre in Eames’ hotel room, sipping at drinks from the mini bar. Arthur’s tail was out and Eames’ tentacles were showing. It was something relatively new, letting down their physical barriers when they were alone. Eames nodded mindlessly, then mentally rewound Arthur’s statement. “Wait, what? What’s worse than being completely alone for ten plus years?”

Arthur grimaced, ears pressing back against his skull. “I don’t feel right. I’m never comfortable, not really.”

Eames looked Arthur up and down; compared his relaxed pose to the uptight way Arthur normally carried himself. “You’re uncomfortable looking human?”

Arthur made a little frustrated noise. “My hologram only covers up what I am; it doesn’t change it. This,” he smoothed a hand over his gray ears, “Never goes away.”

Eames got it. “You have to force your body to seem human, act human, even though it isn’t.” He chuckled. “I’m surprised you’re not a better forger.”

Arthur lobbed a half-hearted glare his way. “I think I’ll leave the professional lying to you.” He sighed and flopped bonelessly down on the hotel bed. “I’ll tell you this,” he said. “It certainly makes sex awkward.”

It was something Eames never expected to hear out of Arthur’s mouth. Arthur laughed at the way his eyes widened. “I’ve never had sex with a human with the lights on,” Arthur said. ‘Or been with the same person more than once. I can’t have anyone getting suspicious.”

And now Eames was picturing Arthur naked on sweat-slick sheets, desperately trying to control his tail while some faceless person fucked him silly.

He cleared his throat and blinked hard. Arthur smirked up at him from the bed and it was just a disgustingly attractive sight. “I think it’s better for me,” he said, trying to derail his filthy train of thought and bring the conversation back under control. “Being a shapeshifter and all. But I’ve never really felt at home as a human.”

There was definitely a pout on Arthur’s lips when Eames changed the subject. Arthur’s face was open and full of affection. It was like someone had pulled the rug out from under Eames, leaving him scrambling for balance. He hadn’t expected that letting Arthur make the first move would be so…unexpected.

Arthur's ears were twitching. “How do you bear it? There’s so much of you that’s hidden away.”

Eames stood, moving forward to press into Arthur’s space. Arthur sat up sharply. Eames said, “It’s like wearing clothes that are too tight; like being bound. It’s never enough.”

Arthur was breathing fast, his eyes blown black. He was making a faint chirrup in the back of his throat. He couldn’t seem to stop staring at Eames’ tentacles. “Can I touch you?” Eames shivered a little; this was the only line they’d never crossed.

He thought about the lovely bend of Arthur’s back, the way it curved into that active, silky tail. “Only if I can touch you, too.”

Arthur tilted his head, his eyes flicking up and down Eames’ body. The slits of his pupils were dilated with interest, the tip of his tail swishing. His gaze came to rest at Eames’ groin. “Can you—are you even—?”

Eames grinned lasciviously, tentacles slithering over his shoulders and curling around his arms. “If you’re trying to ask whether I’m sexually compatible with humans and humanoid species – why yes, Arthur, yes, I am.”

Arthur rolled his eyes but there was a grin lurking at the corner of his lips. He reached out to press his hand to a tentacle. Eames closed his eyes, sucking in a breath. No one had touched him, not the real him, since he’d been sent to Earth. He reached up and stroked his fingertips over Arthur’s ear. Arthur rolled his head into the touch, bumping his head against Eames’ palm with a sigh.

One of Eames’ tentacles coiled around Arthur’s wrist. Arthur’s skin was smooth beneath his flesh. Arthur squirmed at the first slick touch and then relaxed into it. Eames eased Arthur back on the bed until he hovering over him. While his tentacle pulled Arthur’s arm against his chest, Eames wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist, pulling them close together.

Arther let out a sigh as Eames’ fingertips scratched behind his ears, his eyes falling shut. He could see the hint of a milky third eyelid closing over Arthur’s eyes. The taut lines of his face smoothed out and Eames wanted nothing more than to kiss him. With Arthur’s soft fur under his fingertips, he leaned forward and did just that.

Arthur jerked a little in surprise, lips parting. Eames took full advantage, his tongue invading Arthur’s mouth. Slick heat, Arthur’s sandpaper tongue sliding against his. He couldn’t help the little moan he made when Arthur licked into his mouth, sweeping over the sharp line of Eames’ teeth. His tentacles encircled their bodies, looping around every part of Arthur he could find – a thigh, a bicep, his waist.

Arthur pulled back, sucking in a deep breath. “What are we doing?”

“We’re making out, is what we’re doing. And I fully intend to fuck you before the night is through.” Eames could feel the shiver that went through Arthur’s body but Arthur’s expression was still skeptical.

“Are you just going to fuck me because I’m the only person who won’t be freaked out by your tentacles?” he asked.

“Are you going to let me just because I’m the only person who’s seen your tail?”

Arthur blushed and looked down. “Fuck. Just…I’ve wanted you for—a while.”

Eames tipped his head forward, touching the ridges of his forehead to Arthur’s smooth skin. “Darling, you’re not alone in that.”

Arthur’s lips quirked into a smile and he tipped his head up to kiss Eames. Eames kissed him back thoroughly, trying to translate everything he felt into the language of lips and tongues and heat. Arthur moaned, wrapping a hand tightly around the back of Eames’ neck. He squeezed and Eames could feel the prick of claws.

“Christ, Arthur,” he groaned thickly. He grabbed the back of Arthur’s thighs, hitching up long legs to wrap around his waist. Tentacles twined around Arthur, pulling him up into Eames’ arms. He could feel every part of Arthur, all of his appendages curled around him. Arthur was warm and willing in his embrace, and it was nothing like Eames had expected but everything he’d wanted. He could feel the heaving of Arthur's chest as he pressed him down into the mattress.

“I want to see you,” Arthur said raggedly. “All of you.”

Overwhelmed, Eames pressed his face into the moist skin of Arthur’s throat. Arthur wanted _him_ , all of him. It had been years since Eames had let anyone this close. Arthur’s hands fumbled with his shirt, claws finally coming out to rip open the cloth. Eames’ shirt received the same treatment and their chests pressed together, naked skin on skin. One of Eames’ tentacles slipped between them, popping the flies of their trousers and caressing Arthur’s erection.

“Holy shit,” Arthur squealed. He arched up, ears flattening against his head; Eames could feel the helpless thrashing of his tail caught beneath them. Arthur’s hands curled around his biceps, claws biting into the skin. Arthur was flushed and rumpled, eyes closed and head thrown back—he was beautiful, all long lines and pale skin. Eames stared at him, wanting to memorize him just like this. His tentacles went to work almost without thought, pulling their trousers down and off. Arthur squirmed, kicking his clothes away.

Eames dragged his hand down Arthur’s bare torso, skin so fragile and soft under his rough hands. “You’re so gorgeous like this,” he murmured, licking at Arthur’s neck. Arthur tasted of salt-sweat and something metallic and faintly inhuman. “Spread out under me, letting me really see you.”

Arthur looked up at him and it was like being without clothes for the very first time. The nervousness, the uncertainty, the feeling of being utterly vulnerable. It was like he’d taken off another layer of clothing and now he was really, truly naked .

Arthur ran a hand down the ridges of his spine, fingertips skipping over the brown mottling on his shoulders. “You’re not so bad looking yourself.” He caught his lip between his sharp teeth. “It’s different but you’re still…you. I like it.”

“Your approval means everything to me.”

Arthur chuckled and went on the offensive. He wrapped a hand around Eames’ cock, pulling in slow strokes. Eames gasped helplessly. “I thought you said you were going to fuck me,” Arthur said.

Eames groaned and smacked Arthur’s hand away. “Turn over,” he growled.

Arthur scrambled to obey, tentacles helping him move. Arthur settled on hands and knees, looking expectantly over his shoulder. His ears were forward, his tail curled around his thigh. Christ, that was absolutely unfair. Arthur looked like something out his deepest, darkest fantasies, just waiting to be fucked like he deserved. Eames was going to be ruined for anyone else after this.

Tentacles held Arthur down, curved around wrists and ankles. Eames plastered himself against Arthur’s back; Arthur moaned, pushing into him . His tail twined around Eames’ waist, the tip brushing tantalizingly against the slits at the base of his spine. Eames couldn’t help but gasp and jerk up at that; he hadn’t been touched there, _ever_. The play of soft fur over the slick openings where torso and tentacle met was completely new, completely arousing, scandalously good.

It was a fight to bring himself back under control, holding on to restraint with tooth and nail. Eames sucked his fingers into his mouth, wetting them thoroughly. It was strange to feel his own true, coarse skin on his tongue, rather than the smooth human skin he usually wore. He reached down and played a fingertip across Arthur’s hole.

Arthur moaned, a hint of a snarl in his voice, “Come on, do it.”

Eames complied, sliding a finger into Arthur. They moaned in unison. Tight heat clamped down on Eames’ finger and he laid his head on Arthur’s shoulder blade. It was too much, too good. Arthur moaned impatiently, wiggling his hips to make Eames move. Eames stroked in and out, Arthur opening up for him. Eames could stop looking at him; Arthur’s hole was stretched open, reddened and tight around his fingers. He slipped in another and Arthur just took it like he was made for it.

“Okay, I’m good,” Arthur said breathlessly.

Eames pulled away, his fingers coming free with a wet, obscene sound. He reached over the side of the bed, wrestling with his discarded trousers and fumbling in the pockets. He finally found the condom and lube he always carried on jobs with Arthur—hope springs eternal, after all. He let one of his tentacles play over Arthur’s arse , teasing over his hole as he rolled on the condom and slicked himself with lube.

Eames took a deep, steadying breath. This was _Arthur_ and he’d never really thought they’d ever get to this place. Not even after the months of growing closer. He wanted to make this good for Arthur, better than anything he’d ever had. He was going to make sure everything was perfect.

Wrapping Arthur’s tail around his hand, Eames positioned himself at Arthur’s hole. Arthur looked over his shoulder with an affronted expression on his face; Eames couldn’t help but grin. He yanked up on Arthur’s tail at the same moment as he pressed into the searing heat of his body. Eames swore, biting his lip in desperate concentration. Arthur yowled and only Eames’ tentacles holding him down kept him from arching up and off the bed.

It was one long slide until his balls pressed against Arthur's skin. It was good, too good, silky heat clenching around him. Arthur was tight and slick and sweet. It was like being a virgin all over again, feeling new and exposed and sensitive. Every touch seemed full of possibilities. He grit his teeth to keep from groaning loudly. Arthur was just as quiet, gasping softly as he thrust back against him. Eames wanted more from him.

Eames wrapped an arm around Arthur’s chest, pulling him in and thrusting back into the clutching heat. Arthur moaned loudly and shoved back as Eames held him, Eames’ tongue playing at the base of his soft ear. The fur was slick and velvety in his mouth. Completely new and completely alien; he loved it. Eames pushed one of Arthur’s knees up the mattress, the new angle brushing his cock against Arthur’s prostrate with every thrust. He was surprised and delighted that Arthur actually had a prostate.

“That’s right, kitten,” he said, “Just like that.” No doubt he’d catch shit for that later but it was worth it for the way Arthur gasped and shivered. “Is that good for you? Come on, Arthur; tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me. God, harder,” Arthur blushed and snarled, turning his head to lick at the tentacle wound around his arm. Eames’ rhythm stuttered; Arthur’s tongue was surprisingly rough. Rasping against his tentacle, places no one had ever touched. It was almost too much.

He growled and slammed into Arthur. He pushed Arthur flat on the bed, two of his restraining tentacles pulling his thighs wide open. Arthur swore, burying his face in the sheets.

Eames raised one of his hectocotyli—his penetrating tentacles—and pressed it against Arthur’s mouth. Arthur made a noise of surprise and then sucked at the tip. Eames bucked at the feeling of being surrounded by tight, wet heat. Arthur licked at him with that rough tongue and Eames dropped his head, biting at the nape of Arthur’s neck. Another tentacle wrapped around Arthur’s chest, the tip flicking at his nipple. The smell of Arthur filled his nose; cologne and sweat and fur.

Arthur groaned, long and heartfelt, trying to thrust back without leverage. Eames held him down with tentacles and the weight of his body, fucking him harshly into the mattress. It was a heady feeling of power overpowering someone he knew to be so dangerous; he suspecting Arthur was humoring him by letting it happen. Eames shuddered as Arthur’s tail lashed against his body. One of his tentacles came up to pet gently at Arthur’s soft ears.

“Please, please, please,” Arthur wailed. His back arched as he caterwauled. Eames could see the dots of blood on his lips where his sharp teeth had broken the skin. New sweat broke out on his body and Eames sped up his thrusts. He wrapped a tentacle around Arthur’s cock, squeezing in increments.

“Oh god,” Arthur choked out. He came, claws ripping apart the sheets and tail rigid where it pressed against Eames’ stomach.

Arthur clenched around him, impossibly tight and hot. He was fucking _purring_ , a bone-deep rumble vibrating through his entire body. Eames thrust in once more and came in a bright splash of light. He was lost, so lost in Arthur; in him, all around him, Arthur’s scent in his nose, his taste on his tongue, his body in his embrace.

Eames pulled out slowly, dragging his hand down Arthur’s back, following the curve of his spine. He couldn’t resist tweaking Arthur’s tail before flopping down on his back beside him. His tentacles relaxed, unwinding from Arthur and pulling back towards his body.

Arthur turned his head and looked at him sleepily. It was a new look on Arthur, sated and content. His hair was a sweaty mess, plastered against his forehead. Eames decided that this was a look he wanted to put on Arthur’s face more often.

“No one’s ever—” Arthur said softly. “Not like this.” He waved a hand vaguely at his body, encompassing ears and tail.

“I know,” Eames said. He met Arthur’s eyes. “No one’s ever touched me, not really. Not the real me.” He reached over and caressed Arthur’s velvety ears—he was really getting attached to them. “Thank you.”

Arthur hummed an amused noise and propped himself up on his elbows. He leaned over to kiss Eames deep and slow, tongues sliding wetly. His tail twined affectionately with one of Eames’ tentacles. It was the strangest feeling, soft fur sliding on slick flesh, but it sent a thrill down Eames’ spine. “No thanks are required,” Arthur said as he pulled back.

“Making peace between our two species, it that it?” Eames grinned.

Arthur laughed and swatted half-heartedly at him. “You know it’s not,” he said.

Eames picked up Arthur’s hand in his. It was delicate, long fingers ending in small, sharp claws. He raised Arthur’s hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across the knuckles. “I know,” he said.


End file.
